


Don't Fight Fire With a Sword

by HecoHansen31



Series: The Daughters of Orsola [1]
Category: Vikings - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Historically Inaccurate, OOC, Violence, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: Trying desperately to save their sister, Kathleen and Abigail slowly try their best to come up with a plan to open the eyes of king Alfred, but not everything is as easy as it seems.... even more when feelings are involved.
Relationships: Alfred (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Daughters of Orsola [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672849
Kudos: 5





	1. Bite My Tongue, Bide My Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies!  
> This fic is a part of another fic of mine 'To Kill a King', so I do suggest reading that one before, although it isn't mandatory.  
> The first chapter is set between the third and fourth chapter of the fic.  
> As always, if you feel like leaving a comment telling me whether you liked this fic or not, and what you liked and where I could get better, I'd absolutely love it.  
> Have a nice reading!

Kathleen couldn’t just realize that you wouldn’t have been there anymore.

It had all hit her when she had gone back to retrieve some book from your room, shouting lovingly ‘to get your butt up’, because it was morning and you’d be missing breakfast.

It was unlike you not to be already awake, but maybe you had fallen asleep with a book over your head, which shielded you from the sun peaking through the curtains.

It had happened only once before.

But it had happened.

She had shouted your name, giggling silly till realization had hit her: you were gone.

You were in a Viking camping, scared and alone, probably under the hands of a vengeful husband, made to act like nothing more than a trophy.

She just couldn’t believe it.

She just…

She couldn’t breathe.

Abigail found her by the end of your made-up bed, empty, although your scent still stood in the air.

Her sister gently cradled her in her arms, almost motherly.

Although Abigail had been the youngest of them and had never known her mother, she acted in such a motherly way that made her much more grown up than her fourteen-year old body.

Kathleen had never known if it was that lacking of a mother figure that had imposed such a growth on her lithe body or if it was the fact that neither you or Kathleen had ever donned her with the same attention you had for each other.

Although you were a strong trio, the power claims and boundaries had been set before you by your own father and your mother’s death had only certified them.

You would have never accused Abigail of being the death of your mother, but she had been largely weighted down by the pregnancy, enough that you spent every living minute with her, ignoring the squealing baby in the crib next to her.

This had probably prompted Abigail to create a personality that would make nobody forget her, energetic and positive, completely clashing with your silent one and Kathleen’s rightful one.

And although Kathleen dreaded the thought, she almost hoped it would have been Abigail the one chosen by Ivar.

Did that make her a horrible sister?

She hadn’t even been able to stop her sister from her own unhappiness.

“… I know what you are doing here” mumbled Abigail, stealing her from her thoughts “… I also woke up thinking… wishing she was still there”.

“It smells like her” Kathleen’s voice croaked lightly, made rough by the commotion and the tears shining in her eyes as she raised her head to meet Abigail’s “… I just… two days ago she was here… and now…”.

A choked sob, forced her head down, hiding her own fault.

“… now she is a wife of a prince” completed softly Abigail, taking her hand, a steady look of gentleness on her face and for a moment Kathleen was reminded of her mother’s soft gaze “… I know that you think she is unsafe, but you heard his promise… he won’t hurt her”.

“Father did the same promise to mother, in front of our own God!” shouted back Kathleen, pushing herself closer to a trembling Abigail, who backed up lightly “… you know how fickle the world of a man is”.

“He isn’t our father” spoke Abigail, something whispered in her tone, completely aware that she wouldn’t be able to change Kathleen’s word.

“You are right” replied the older sister, adjusting herself to be sat onto your empty trunk, the only one left in the room, not a single thing reminding her of you, except the precious smell, something darker than you looked “… he is worse”.

Abigail just shook her head, huffing a loud sigh, before she turned, moving to your desk, freed of any paper that stood on it, as she also sat down, but decided to change the topic of your discourse.

Abigail would have made the perfect court wife: poised, gracious and smart enough to know when to talk back, she would have made much more of a trophy for a king.

But Kathleen couldn’t help but think that with what Ivar had in mind, he had chosen the quiet sister for a reason.

And she couldn’t still understand whether it was to humiliate the Saxons or for some genuine emotion.

The one he had seen in his eyes as he swore that he wouldn’t have hurt his sister.

‘Can you keep a promise, my prince?’ she had wanted to reply, but Heahmund had stilled her movements and words with a steely gaze, almost already saying ‘I’ll have to report this to the king’.

She had almost wanted to give him the finger and tell him to report that.

‘You are a man without honor, Heahmund, all you have is your God’ she had uttered as he had helped her out of the chariot, before her and Abigail ran to their rooms, locking themselves inside.

“… what do you think that we are to do without (Y/N)?” asked Abigail, so casually, inspecting her nails, but Kathleen could see the effort in her body to keep such a trivial pose.

“What we could do is take over this damn castle and storm the army to the camping to get back our sister” her tone held a white rage and a conviction that scared Abigail, as fear showed in her eyes and she adjusted herself to face her sibling.

“… something that we can actually do, Kathleen” the way she pronounced her name, spoke of her annoyance to the entire plan and to her desperate resistance to embrace the truth and the reality.

Again, Abigail was the mature one, if you were gone.

“I am not joking, Abigail” she commented her tone moving to sarcastic determination “… you can raise your skirts and distract the soldier, as I ran father through my…”.

“That’s murder, Kathleen” now Abigail seemed disappointed, her tone switching to an accusing one “It’s our father, Kathleen!”.

“For all I care he is no father of mine” and she had come closer to a trembling Abigail “… fathers would never sell their daughter to the best price or hit them... they should protect them…”.

Something had broken in that moment in Abigail’s eyes.

Although you and Abigail were all aware that Kathleen’s bruises weren’t because of her clumsiness, you were the sole one who knew that they were willingly inflicted as a torture by your father.

Abigail had always been kept in the shadows.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them, and Abigail seemed to simply be able to shift in her chair, showing her uneasiness, not knowing whether she should have comforted Kathleen or… simply forget about what she had just said.

“… I might have a plan” Abigail commented softly, her tone too similar to a whisper “… prince Alfred will be here tonight”.

“Those phrases just don’t match together” mumbled Kathleen, surly, sucking lightly on her bottom lip “… so I don’t think that you have a plan”.

“The only person who can exceed our father is Alfred, you know it” Abigail explained softly, uncaring of her sister’s tone “… we just need to convince him that our sister never wanted any of this”.

“… and then he’ll say the word and we’ll have our sister back in our arms” mumbled Kathleen with a silly tone, before glaring her way “… this is a very doable plan indeed”.

“I know that I am not nearly as smart as… (Y/N)” now her sister was fidgeting with her hands and Kathleen couldn’t help but realize that maybe… just maybe… she had used the wrong tone with her poor sister, who was just trying to help her “… but I am trying my best here”.

“I am sorry” commented softly Kathleen, coming closer to her, as she moved her hands onto her shoulders “… it is just… this entire thing is making me…”.

“… nervous” completed softly Abigail “… oh, I hadn’t noticed it”.

“Didn’t know you had this ‘tricky’ side to you, sister” Kathleen couldn’t help but move her lips in a silly smile.

“… well somebody had to be the ‘humorous sister’ “ also her smile was small, but it still shone, as her sister put an hand over Kathleen’s “… now let’s get breakfast, we can think about some plans to take back our sister with our stomach full”.

“That, sister, is an amazing idea”.

\---

Although Abigail’s idea had distracted Kathleen for enough time to actually consider the ‘Alfred idea’ that dreading feeling of not having done enough was now mixed with the knowledge of having ignored her smaller sister.

And that she had been the one who had taken in a protector role for this entire shit.

Kathleen was basically failing greatly at being an older sister.

And this made her think about all she had always feared of becoming: her father.

She had always been constantly scared of following in her father’s footsteps, a failure to her own family with a heart of ice.

Although her father had always despised her, he had trained her to become him one day.

His wife hadn’t given him any male heirs, but he had made everything in his power to obtain his future role for his daughter, maybe adjusting a puppet king next to her, but it would have been his bloodline that ruled.

Even if he had to put on the throne the daughter he had always hated.

He had always had some kind of appreciation for you and Abigail.

You had been the one who had won him over a treaty with Vikings and Abigail was the perfect wife material, and Kathleen was surprised he wasn’t allowing any suitor to court her yet.

But he had always hated Kathleen.

She was the useless first daughter, too stubborn for a husband and too bold for his liking.

Unlike you or Abigail she didn’t back down from a fight and didn’t know when to hold herself back.

She was a thorn in his side.

And yet he had downed every small lesson onto her.

He was a cruel man, rightful in his mind and cruel in everyone else’s.

And Kathleen couldn’t help but think the same of herself.

And when she felt like that, all she could do was fight her mind till it exhausted itself and no thought appeared in it, in a blankness of it that made only her body memory guide her.

The sword Ivar had gifted back to her was beautiful, but she hadn’t been able to use it, since it almost seemed some kind of perverse deal back for her own sister.

She preferred to use the consumed wooden sword she used for practice, twirling it around with expertise, as she remembered the pose and tried out a quick fighting with an imaginary enemy.

… till it become a real enemy.

A dark-haired boy was staring at her from the threshold of her room and immediately she thought it was a simple servant, but then as she looked closer at him, she found out that he was dressed in impeccable clothes.

Definitely not a servant.

“… I… I meant no harm, princess” he spoke slowly and slowly she recognized that voice and were shocked to discover that who you had in front of you was king Alfred, having gained quite the not impressive moustache and lost his luxurious hair “… I just do think that I lost the reunion room, princess Abigail gave me precise instructions, still…”.

At the mention of Abigail, Kathleen almost huffed, lowering her sword and bowing lightly her head, before muttering a simple ‘it’s an honor, prince Alfred’.

“… I do think that you mistook the left and right, my room is on the left and the reunion room is on the right” her tone was algid and the boy seemed almost shook by it, trembling lightly, before he reassumed a tight posture.

“… ahh yeah, I must have… I am sorry, my princess again” and he made to exit but Kathleen thought that there wouldn’t be a better chance for them two to talk and to prove to Abigail that she trusted her and cared for her opinion.

“Prince Alfred, might we have a private word, later?” he seemed shocked and immediately puffed up his chest as any mate ready to court a female did, just to be shot down by another glare of yours “… about statecraft and my sister”.

“Oh, I talked with Abigail, she see…”.

“My sister, (Y/N)”.

“Ohhhhh….”.

How the hell was she supposed to save your sister with the help of this idiot.

“… I usually take a small stroll in the garden after lunch to help digestion, you should join me”.

And like that she slammed the door in his face.

She had a diplomatic date to attend.

\---

“You are not the humorous sister, you are the cunning one” mumbled Kathleen as she came by Abigail in the dining room, the maids quickly excusing themselves as their meals waited steaming on the table.

“Oh c’mon! You should have expected that I wouldn’t have relented so quickly” commented Abigail, quickly moving to the table and eating a small bite of food with her own hands.

“… you should have handled Alfred” mumbled her sister sticking on the threshold of the door “… I am not good with men I have no patience for fickle things”.

“Well sadly sister, you are the older one, he’ll believe you more” she muttered softly, and Kathleen couldn’t help but be impressed by how thoughtful her younger sister could be, almost more mature than her.

Not that it took too much.

“… I’ll ruin it” she insisted, but Abigail had already started eating fiercely and even the greatest warrior would have been discouraged from distracting her from eating.

“Just look at him in the eyes, meanwhile he says how strong he is” she suggested softly, between a few bites in a very unladylike way.

“… I’ll more likely throw up”.

“Not on his polished boots”.

Kathleen let out a small laugh, before moving to sit beside the sister, gently reaching out for her hand.

“… you are a true blessing Abigail”

“… never thought you’d say that, did you?” teased her Abigail, but gripped back her hand “… now let’s practice what will happen between you”.

\---

Kathleen had almost forgotten the walk as she had had too many laughs with Abigail and when the bell of memory had rung in her mind and she had rushed in the gardens, almost tripping a few maids, as Abigail followed her desperately, trying to stop her.

‘Your braid is completely disrupted! And don’t trip in …’ and Kathleen had almost fallen down the stairs indeed ‘… your skirts’.

‘I’ll adjust it as soon as I can’ she had screamed back but had barely been able to tuck in her hair before prince Alfred had also barged in her, almost crashing in her.

“Two times in a row, king Alfred, somebody will think that you are courting me” and from the blush on his face you had hit some sore spot.

“… I… I actually was expecting somebody to watch over us” he mumbled softly, adjusting his own royal robes, and you just looked up at the small tower from which Abigail was spying on you.

“Don’t worry, our loyal and just God will look at us from above” and like that you had yanked on his arm to make him start moving before your father realized your absences.

A control maniac like him would have hated it.

“… you don’t… that seems a bit insulting” he replied lightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell Father Peter?” you joked back “… because I was never his favorite, I constantly annoyed him with silly questions as if you are supposed to seriously stone a woman if she decides that she has enough of having one man”.

“I take it that you don’t believe in God’s rightful law”.

“I do believe in it” Kathleen mumbled, turning to look at Alfred with a stern look, one that would have put the fear of God in each man “… I just think that some of it is ridiculous”.

“… what about the one where it says that men should pluck out their eyes if they ever stare upon a woman?”.

The entire phrase took her aback.

But she hid it well, although on Alfred’s face appeared a victorious smirk.

“… you have read the Bible, good for you”

“Are you educated to such disrespect or are you simply made this way, princess Kathleen?” he spoke lightly, that hideous victorious smirk on his face lighting up his face.

And for a minute she couldn’t help but think about how handsome he looked.

“I was dropped on the head as a child” she shot back “… what is the excuse for your dullness, my king?”.

You were half-expecting him to faint for your boldness, but he simply started laughing loudly, having to crouch down to calm his breath as Kathleen almost wondered whether she should have done something.

But then again, king Alfred’s eyes caught her, this time actually making you back up at the intensity of his stare, such a genuine and natural look in the shining pools of light that Kathleen almost wondered whether he was an angel with no wings.

“… you are one of a kind, princess Kathleen” he mumbled, as his laugh disappeared from his tone in a softer one “… you ask me to meet here unattended and believe me I thought you’d try to seduce me..”.

“Don’t flatter yourself my king, I have better taste” shot immediately back Kathleen.

“… and then you insult me” he smirked, ignoring completely Kathleen’s statement and reaching softly for her hand “… you have me completely enchanted, my princess”.

And he wasn’t lying by the laughing and adoring glance he sent to her.

And for a moment Kathleen understood why women liked fickle things as men.

If they looked at them like that…

It made her feel powerful, but also comfortable…

“… I hope I have your ears, because I need to talk with you, my king”.


	2. Wearing A Warning Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to convince Alfred to save her sister might be much more difficult than Kathleen had planned, even more when the heathens’ plans come crashing against her own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set up between 'The Smart Saviour' and 'The Betrayed Ruler' from my other series 'To Kill a King' (if you are interested, I do suggest checking it out, because it might help with deepening your knowledge of this world and story).

More than a week had passed, and you were still Ivar’s wife and Kathleen hadn’t found a solution yet, that would have brought you home.

To your rightful home.

Although she had caught the king’s attention, she hadn’t convinced him to do much about your ‘problem’, since Alfred seemed focused only on the ‘best for his country’.

‘I do understand that you miss your sister…’ his eyes told you that he didn’t and if the entire story about Aethelred’s death was true, he had no way of truly knowing whatr it meant to miss a sister as much as you missed air ‘… but princess (Y/N) has done what she had to do for our country, the great Wessex… it is a sacrifice but it had to be made’.

‘You make it seem so grand and strong’ had replied Kathleen, as she hid her mouth and words it held in the cape of her long mantle ‘… but in reality it was nothing more than throwing her to the dogs’.

‘What would you expect me to do, princess?’ had shot back Alfred with a violence in his reply that only matched the tiredness she had noticed in her eyes ‘… if he had asked of me, I would have gladly marched over, willingly to his camping, but he didn’t… he chose your sister and she knew what would be the best choice’.

‘As if she had one’ the words had burned on Kathleen’s chest.

Because it wasn’t solely your injustice.

It was hers.

And Abigail’s.

Alfred had noticed immediately how truly bothered she had been, and Kathleen hadn’t wanted to continue the conversation that day, although she was well aware that Alfred would soon go back to his lands.

She didn’t know if she had to wish for that.

Or if she wanted him to stay.

Although he hadn’t done much for his sister, he certainly was one of the few that matched her brain and chatter.

Somebody that made her feel like an equal and not simply the dirt beneath their shoes.

Like her father.

He had noticed immediately how much time she had been spending with Alfred and that same night he had decided to act upon it, since he didn’t like his daughter meddling in his business.

‘What are you doing around the prince?’ he had asked her, after he had gotten her to meet him in his own private chambers ‘… you aren’t one to whore out your body easily, you never were… sometimes I thought it’d be easier for me, if you were, instead, like that’.

‘You already sold a daughter to the best offerer, isn’t it enough?’ she had retorted, seeing her father’s anger grow in his eyes and she had welcomed it gladly.

Rage made her feel reactive and made something similar to fire run in her veins.

It made her feel strong.

And she would have taken everything instead of the small scared child she had always felt before she started to fight back.

It didn’t matter that he would hit her harder if he she reacted.

She just didn’t want to be weak.

She would never be weak again.

But that night her father played dirty tricks once he had reduced her to nothing more than a bloody pulp.

‘Sometimes I wish that you’d be more like your mother…’ he had commented as he cleaned his hands in the basin of water he kept in his private chambers.

It had become a darker shade of marron due to the blood in it.

But it wasn’t only Kathleen’s blood.

She had made her father bleed and it was already a victory.

‘… she never fought me back, don’t you know? She was smart’ he had seemed to want to remember her mother, dirtying her memory, as Kathleen tried another weak attempt to attack him just to shut him up.

But he had punched her in the gut, making her vomit the small meal she had consumed with him ‘… your sister (Y/N)… they are similar, not only in the appearance… but I wonder…’.

And then he had shot the final blow.

‘I wonder if she also begs when he hits her’.

She had just been able to push herself away from the room as her father snickered aggressively almost turning in a choked cough for the harshness of it.

She had tried to shield her brain from it, from the intrusive images her father had filled her mind with.

But it hadn’t worked.

And she had fallen asleep with the thought of screaming that sounded at the same time like her mother and her sister.

That morning she had overslept till an obsessive knocking had brought her to drag her ass away from bed.

The previous night she hadn’t even been able to take care to her body, although she knew that nothing would show up on her face.

It was the only way a lady was properly beaten.

Never damage the precious goods.

Abigail still looked too concerned with whatever troubled her to notice Kathleen’s slumped walk, as she moved to lean on the door to avoid fall on her ass.

She had been the one knocking and she had an urgent light in her eyes.

“… they… they accused her of poisoning him” the words of Abigail were of one filled with pure panic, as she reacted almost hysterically.

“Sister… I don’t… I don’t understand you” spoke Kathleen as she invited her sister inside, mostly to be able to lean properly on a bed, as Abigail finally seemed to remember what was going truly behind her message.

“… it’s (Y/N)!” Kathleen’s ears immediately opened as she looked fully at her sister’s distressed face “… they accused her of having poisoned Ivar”.

“It is impossible” that was Kathleen’s first response.

You wouldn’t have done such a horrendous act.

And if you had, you wouldn’t have been surely discovered.

You had always been the smart sister.

“… Heahmund just wrote a letter” explained Abigail “… but a few days have passed since it first travelled”.

“They wouldn’t dishonor an English princess” again her words seemed only rightful “… they wouldn’t touch a single hair of hers”.

But at the same time her father’s words came back at her.

‘I wonder if she also begs when her husband hits her’.

She remembered Ivar’s growl as (Y/N) had moved to lower herself to grab the fallen ring, although had been gentle with her.

The promise he had made to Kathleen certainly wasn’t forgotten.

But how much was the value of a heathen’s word, truly?

‘Please God, I never asked you anything, I know I denied Your existence when mother died, but right now if my sister is even solely scratched, know that I’ll curse Your name and burn down Your fucking churches’.

She would have killed Ivar, for it, after she had burned all the churches in her kingdom.

“How did you know of the letter?” asked Kathleen suddenly, knowing that there was much more behind it “… did it arrive to you? Or did you hear about it…?”.

“Father received it, meanwhile we were having breakfast” explained Abigail, her eyes suddenly shining “… he and Alfred are having a council together, right now, father wasn’t… father isn’t happy with (Y/N)”.

“… when will he ever be” Kathleen spoke biting her lips to cease feeling pain as she tried to focus on what to do next.

Barging in the council would have certainly worked.

And even if she did that, what would she have said.

‘Go and retrieve my sister form that fucking heathens’ hands’ wouldn’t have been proper, but neither sweet words would have worked.

They were all she had used with Alfred.

She had to pass to diplomacy.

“Help me get dressed” she ordered to Abigail, as instead her sister’s eyes were set onto her bloodied sheets and Kathleen had to lightly shook her “… Abigail, I can’t barge in my nightgown”.

“You can barely move for all I care” she retorted, with a truly worried look.

“I’ll be fine” breathed out Kathleen as she flicked her fingers at her sister “… now bring me my red robe, I am going to war”.

* * *

Her entrance had been quite less impressive than she had thought, although Alfred had moved to look up at her, immediately, before ducking his eyes again on the maps that had been pulled out on the table.

And her father didn’t look in the slightest surprised.

“… my daughter, you missed breakfast”.

“I felt unwell” she commented tightly, as she shot him a light look, as if to say ‘because of you’ “… but now I am here, and I am worried about my sister”.

“Your sister has just won us a rather troublesome headache” although her father’s words were slow and soft, almost meant to make his advisors and Alfred laugh, his eyes held a deeper violence and rage.

(Y/N) had done a mistake and now their father was paying for it.

You had disappointed him.

“My sister is under process for something you made her do”.

It was an accuse and suddenly silence fell in the room.

It was a challenge for her father that immediately asked all the advisors to leave the room, except Alfred, on whom he hadn’t any power.

“Sweet girl of mine, I won’t let you insult me in front of my advisors” he spoke, hissing through his teeth with a harshness that didn’t go unnoticed even to Alfred, who tried to shift the attention away from you.

“This isn’t a game of blame” he spoke, as his youngish charm became an older and kinglier strength “… (Y/N)’s life, your sister and daughter, is at risk”.

“Thank you for pointing out what is truly important” Kathleen commented, as she thanked Alfred also with her eyes and he simply smiled before looking at her father.

“… we can’t simply let this go unnoticed, not solely to save her, but also because it’d just make the Vikings think that they can touch one of us, without getting punished” explained the king of Wessex, as the slight smirk on your father’s face disappeared.

“She isn’t one of us, anymore” muttered Kathleen’s father, keeping the words tight in his mouth, although Alfred caught on them, a true expression of shock on his face, hence it was Kathleen who brought attention to them.

“She is” she protested loudly “… she is a Saxon, an English princess, and she belongs to us”.

“She probably has a child of a heathen already in his belly, if the rumors are true” her father retorted “… he has tainted her already with his heathen’s way”.

Kathleen almost wished to let his father know of his son-in-law’s shortcomings, but she bit her lips and let Alfred separate them again, as this time an harsh look was sent her father’s way, effectively hitting him in his pride.

“What princess Kathleen says is true” confirmed Alfred “… she might have married prince Ivar, but that doesn’t diminish her in any way. I swore to protect her after everything was done and the heathens’ power over our land is destroyed, but that also involves the time she spends in the settlements”.

Your father didn’t look so smug now that he was defeated.

“… we’ll have to think of something” spoke Alfred, harshly, as he invited Kathleen to sit, taking in her lightly trembling figure, as he also helped her in the chair, adjusting it behind her, his finger lightly brushing against her back, with a gentleness that didn’t belong to his steely eyes “… first of all, what does the letter truly say”.

Her father threw it at Alfred, his eyes bored but scanning roughly over the sense of companionship that was slowly building up between Alfred and Kathleen, the latter surprised that the king of Wessex asked her to join in his reading.

‘Two eyes are better than one’.

And although sadly the letter seemed true, what had been left out by the hysterical Abigail was that you hadn’t been already processed, but you had been trialed on charges of attempted poisoning Ivar.

The verdict was still out.

“… this seems ridiculous” explained Kathleen to Alfred, who looked at her truly attentively “… (Y/N) is careful, if she had tried to poison him, she wouldn’t have been caught believe me”.

“I didn’t think that your sister owned such a brain” had commented her father, the third wheel of the appointment between Kathleen and Alfred.

“She must have been involved in some heathen plot, unwillingly” commented Alfred.

“But why?” Kathleen replied.

“To undermine our hold on them?” suggested Alfred, although he looked at it thoughtfully “… I have also heard that there have been some problematic fights between the sons of Ragnar, so that isn’t even to put off. Somebody might have wanted to undermine Ivar’s claim and they used her against him”.

“Thinking about that won’t still solve anything, if we stay here without doing nothing” commented tightly Kathleen “… they might put her to death, if they haven’t already”.

“We can’t just march soldiers in there” explained Alfred “… it’ll be considered an act of war”

“… and I won’t give you any men to send there for this crazy idea” rumbled her father, not that it got him much attention.

“We do not have to send an entire army, but we need to reinforce our hold on them” counterattacked Kathleen, and suddenly Alfred’s eyes were set up on her determination, something that made her blush lightly “… what I mean… what I mean is that we don’t have to make it seem like more than a casual encounter? Don’t you have soldiers on those borders?”

“… now that you make me think about it I do” remembered the king, before he grabbed onto Kathleen’s hands, something that made her blush spread further “… I’ll tell them to move there immediately, in the meanwhile do reply to bishop Heahmund to hold on and be heard”.

Kathleen’s father, to whom that phrase was shot at, didn’t look in the slightest pleased by being ordered around and he endured it with a smirk that spoke of pure annoyance.

And Kathleen shot him one back.

A victorious one.

But her sister still wasn’t safe.

* * *

After her resistance to her father she had moved back in her room to let Abigail know of Alfred’s interest in this.

Although he hadn’t uttered any word to make (Y/N) come home, he certainly had sided with her, which was already one step forward.

Although it didn’t calm her anxious heart.

You were going to be trialed.

And this made Kathleen nervous.

Although you did have Heahmund on your side, you would have been trialed by a jury of heathens, hence the process wouldn’t have been in your favor and neither it would have been something that you had knowledge of.

Kathleen had just to trust in Heahmund, you and the armies Alfred would have sent to defend you and bring you home, the most extreme case he had thought about, although your father had denied that option immediately.

‘She’d be a rejected wife, a true shame for this honorable household’ he had complained, but Alfred had shown to have had enough of Kathleen’s father annoying replies.

‘Your daughter has honored us through accepting to put her life on the line for information from the Vikings’ he had reminded Kathleen’s father ‘… if we have to welcome her back, after this, we will, gladly’.

She had enjoyed the tight expression on her father’s face.

And that was what was keeping her upright, no matter the injuries all over her body and the threat over her sister’s head.

She couldn’t do much for her sister, but she could do even less with the pain that shot through her body.

She hadn’t been allowed to join Alfred’s border troupes, both because it wouldn’t have been a conflict of interests and both for the fact that it had been thoroughly dangerous.

So, she decided to bind the few broken bones in her chest, mostly because she knew for experience that they would have healed on their own, although it’d be nothing but a painful experience.

Her father knew perfectly where to hit her.

She heard a knocking on the door, and gently hurried to finish the binding, quickly wearing an ample nightgown to avoid anything weighting on the binding, since the corset had already left its signs, only stealing painfully your breath.

She expected it to be some maid or someone tasked with spying over her by her father, since she had been quite bold with her affirmations and her control freak of a father would have gladly done everything he could to regain some semblance of order and power over her.

But instead it turned out to be king Alfred.

“Are you lost again, my king” Kathleen teased him, having grown quite fascinated with the way his cheeks flushed.

“I…” he searched for words, as his pink togue wet his full lips.

He certainly had a beauty in himself that made him as tantalizing as sin.

“… not this time” he promised “… I just wanted to check on you, you didn’t look your best, at the council”.

“Thank you for pointing out that I look like shit” uttered back Kathleen, faking an offended tone.

But she wasn’t truly, although some feminine instinct in her wanted to look her best for him.

She didn’t know what made him blush, the thought of having truly offended her or the curse she had uttered.

“… you never look like… you know what, princess Kathleen” he shot back, although his eyes didn’t meet hers, his voice was true “… but I couldn’t help but notice that you were limping, this morning”.

“I just fell from the bed” ‘and onto my father’s fists’.

It was the most common of excuse she had given out.

Usually people didn’t ask more, because they weren’t truly interested.

Kathleen had known since she had been able to read that people would have never ever truly loved her for what she was.

And they never would.

They faked their interest in her, because she would have been their future queen, since she was the sole heir to her father.

That was also the reason why she had been an utter and complete mess with her suitors, making one after the other run away.

It was the last rebellion she could give before it was too late.

“… that seems…” Alfred was smarter than anybody around her, so he probably knew that she was lying to him but maintained her secrecy “… I am sorry that you hurt yourself, princess”.

In the end, he chose not to get involved.

But his eyes asked of what he could do to help her.

“I was binding myself up to avoid any broken ribs” she explained, as she moved to the gauze left on the bed where she was laying “… I have a few cuts on my legs to take care of, would you be so kind to get me some salve from my beside table”.

Alfred seemed to understand that, although she appreciated his presence, she wanted a bit of privacy and as any normal royal attendant, he moved to the beside table, leaving her to tighten privately the gauze around her chest, as she hissed a shaky breath, Alfred’s shoulders quaking at that sound.

He almost made to turn around, but then his resolve was stronger, and he froze, moving to search in the drawers.

His ears became red as he found only scandalous undergarments, she had bought just to make you and Abigail smile brightly as you commented at the uncomfortableness of them.

He seemed to have the same thought.

“Wrong drawer, my king” she joked, as she moved the remaining gauze away, to let him sit beside you, something almost intimate setting up in the room.

“… sorry” he commented, before he opened the proper drawer and grabbed the small bottle with lotion, offering it to Kathleen who moved to shamelessly raise her nightgown up her legs, unveiling them.

And she couldn’t hide that suddenly the room became warmer as his eyes set up on her body “… isn’t this improper?”.

“Oh why?” she spoke, her rebellious streak appearing in her eyes “… I am just healing my wounds, if you think that is improper, that’s on you”.

Alfred seemed almost taken aback by her scolding and she smirked at him, as his lips moved in a softer smirk, before he passed her the salve.

“Then if you don’t see anything improper in this, may I help with your wounds?” the little king wanted to play, his eyes suddenly becoming flame “… wouldn’t want you to miss out any spot”.

“Then be my guest, my king”.

And she pushed the lid back in his hands and he opened it calmly, gently dripping a good amount on his fingers, before he softly spread it around his hands, lowering the box again on the beside table.

Kathleen moved one leg towards him, meanwhile Alfred sat himself on the chair next to bed avoiding the spot beside you, as if he was too shameful for that.

Kathleen, then, gave him one of her legs, pushing them on his thigh, as one last attempt to make him back out.

But it wasn’t enough.

And his eyes shot up to meet hers.

And this time it was her who backed away from them.

She should have thought about you.

In a dark cell, as you waited for your verdict.

Maybe risking the worst of sentences.

But now she was simply drowning in those pools of pure sky.

His hands were smooth, certainly the ones of somebody who was more used to paper than the swords.

Something that felt damnably good against her hurt skin.

The coldness of the cream gave Kathleen great relief, alongside the way it glided over her broken and dry skin.

And Alfred knew just how much pression to apply on most points of her legs, as she found closer and closer to that angelic face.

And slowly there was just the space of a breath between each other.

And Kathleen closed it with the only truly free movement she had ever allowed herself, beside the king.

And she asked herself, if this was all a plan or if her heart beating dangerously fast was true.

She didn’t care to find out, when Alfred pushed her closer to him, answering the kiss.


End file.
